


You Make it Seem Like Nothing (Come to Me)

by rioseco



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Paopu Fruit (Kingdom Hearts), Pining, Post KH3 Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rioseco/pseuds/rioseco
Summary: “Catch!” Sora yells, without much preamble. It’s only thanks to pure muscle memory that Riku jolts to attention, his hand shooting out reflexively to catch the misshapen object that Sora has unceremoniously lobbed at the back of his head.“What the…” Riku mutters under his breath as he realizes what it is. A paopu fruit. His fingers sink deep divots into its soft tender flesh, and all at once, like a flash of lightning, he feels a bit… rattled. Like he’s lived this scene before, once upon a time.





	You Make it Seem Like Nothing (Come to Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Post-KH3 ending and post-Riku's millionth Sora rescue mission :)

“Catch!” Sora yells, without much preamble. It’s only thanks to pure muscle memory that Riku jolts to attention, his hand shooting out reflexively to catch the misshapen object that Sora has unceremoniously lobbed at the back of his head. 

 

“What the…” Riku mutters under his breath as he realizes what it is. A _paopu_ _fruit_. His fingers sink deep divots into its soft tender flesh, and all at once, like a flash of lightning, he feels a bit… rattled. Like he’s lived this scene before, once upon a time.

 

Behind him, Sora is hopping onto the bough of the twisted old tree, another star-shaped fruit secured in his hand. 

 

“Hey,” Riku shouts over his shoulder dryly before turning to face Sora head-on, “you know you’re supposed to share _one_ of these, right?” With a small chuckle, he strides over, tamping down his own traitorous heart from getting wildly ahead of itself, and settles for teasing Sora instead. “Try to get it right next time you’re here with Kairi.” His tone is surprisingly breezy, his stride confident - a performative act he’s memorized from years of playing pretend. It’s amazing how easily he slips on the veneer of indifference now, though this time, he’s a little older, a little wiser, and quite a lot more resigned to the natural progression of the fates. 

 

“Oh,” Sora scratches his cheek. “So you saw, huh?” Riku just grunts in acknowledgment, propping himself up lazily against the tree, as usual. “ _Weeeell_ ,” Sora stretches the word out, kicking a foot to lightly prod at Riku’s back. “Then you’d know it was _Kairi_ who brought two, so I’m not the one who screwed up!” The pout lining his words is completely audible, to Riku’s mild amusement, though he doesn’t bother to turn to see the sulky look on Sora’s face. 

 

The first time Sora kicks Riku with his gross, sand-logged sandals to catch his attention, he ignores it. The second time, he swats it away with an annoyed smack. The third time, Riku finally whirls around to shoot Sora a dirty look, but just sees Sora beaming brightly at him. 

 

He pats the branch he’s sitting on and gestures for Riku to join him.

 

It’s not his spot. It hasn’t been his spot for ages, ever since he started growing taller and stronger and stubbornly insisted on standing vigil, ever at the ready so Kairi and Sora could sit, freely together, dangling their little legs from above. Probably still not his place, really, but after Sora shoots him another exasperated look and kicks him again with a whiny ‘ _Riku’_ , he relents. With one firm palm on the tree, he swings himself up to settle down next to Sora, and it feels weirdly right, he thinks to himself, for a spot that’s not actually his. 

 

“Guess _you two_ didn’t need a fruit to keep your lives intertwined anyways, huh,” Riku muses, voice brimming with false bravado. “Besides, who needs a paopu fruit when you have Sora-levels of stubbornness?”

 

Sora jabs Riku with a pointy elbow as he shoots back, lower lip jutting out petulantly, “Oh whatever - it worked, didn’t it?”

 

Riku nods.

 

“Yeah,” He breathes out simply.

 

Of course it had worked - wasn’t that the entire premise between those two anyways? Who needs the laws of physics or reality or time or space when you’ve got true love? He shifts a little away from Sora’s bony elbows and kicks his own legs out. It’s kinda nice, just swinging his legs like this, like he’s a carefree kid again. Like he’s still young and dumb enough not to have to be the bigger person all the time. After everything the three of them have been through, though, it’s naive to think he can just _pretend_ away the universe’s designs, and he knows what will happen if he keeps dwelling on the things he won’t and can’t ever have. 

 

And well, if anyone deserves to be with Sora, Riku can think of no better person than Kairi. 

  
“Well, no reason you guys can’t get it right next time.” He concedes appeasingly. “Pretty sure you also screwed up by picking them before they were ripe.” 

 

Sora sinks his teeth into a large chunk out of one point of his paopu, peel and all, nodding easily as he chews. “Yeah,” he gets out around a mouthful of the golden fruit, “Tastes a lot sweeter now. It was pretty dry when I had it last time.” 

 

Riku blinks slowly. There’s no point in trying to read too much into that. He turns the fruit Sora tossed him, listlessly, this way and that. The paopu is all mushy underneath the peel. He squeezes it, hard enough to burst, but the skin is surprisingly flexible and he’s left with the distinct impression that his paopu is overripe. 

 

Clearing his throat, he soldiers on.“Well, you could share one with her tomorrow. You’ve literally saved the universe - I’m pretty sure you’ve earned it.”

 

“Nah,” replies Sora breezily. “It’s okay, she’s busy with the restoration effort, and besides,” he shrugs. “I don’t really care about the legend.” He nudges Riku gently with his shoulder, waggling his eyebrows wildly. “That’s _all_ you, Riku.”

 

Riku’s neck prickles with sudden embarrassment. “What, seriously? C’mon, don’t girls like that kind of gesture? You can finally get the fairy tale ending Kairi’s always been telling us stories about.”

 

“Huh? What’s _that_ got to do with anything?” Sora frowns. He levels Riku with a strange, scrutinizing look for a long long moment, and then he says slowly, eyes squinting in even more confusion. “Man, why does _everyone_ think I’m like, in love with Kairi?”

 

Riku scoffs, incredulous. “Don’t you? Your love is some… crazy, death-defying cosmic type of love that can _literally_ rewrite reality, so, as far as stories go,” Riku shrugs. “Standard fare, right? The hero gets the princess.” His tone is mild; his eyes are distant. Like a phantom, the horizon stretches away no matter how far his gaze chases after it. There’s amusement lining his words, faint, and Riku’s reminded, abstractly, of the distance between them. 

 

Abruptly, Sora hacks on a piece of fruit. He splutters noisily for a few seconds before responding far too quickly, the words tripping over themselves. “Well, yeah I _love_ Kairi, like we all love each other. But she’s not like - some kind of _prize_. I mean, maybe _back then_ , I had a stupid crush on her when I was a kid, but… I dunno, everything’s changed. For all of us.” He frowns. “And besides, I’d made a promise to her - before the battle - that I’d protect her. I’d protect _everyone_. And I did.”

 

“ _Well_ , sure,” Riku concedes, tone notably patient, though a touch impatient. “But don’t you think it _might_ mean something _more_ to you since you literally overwrote death for her?” 

 

Sora frowns. Scratches his cheek, slowly this time. Turns to peer at Riku, curious and considering. 

 

Then he blurts out far too loudly: “Well, how’s that any different from what _you_ did for _me_?”

 

Riku freezes. His eyes flicker about, like it’s scanning every muscle of Sora’s face for a hard long second before he breathes out a weak exhale. It sounds like a wisp of his soul escaping him, something old and tired, and Riku barks out a forceful laugh, though he doesn’t sound at all amused.

 

“You’re missing the point, Sora.”

 

“I don’t think I am, _Riku_.” Sora shoots back obstinately, cerulean eyes glinting sharp and determined. Riku sighs. He runs a hand over his face, but before he can steel his nerves, Sora shakes his head and barrels on. “C’mon,I would’ve gone to save any of our friends! Why would you just assume I only went after her because I was _in love?_ ”

 

Once the question escapes his lips, though, Sora stills. 

 

All at once, it’s as if the invisible shroud that hung like a hazy fog over the distance between them has lifted or finally become visible, naked in the glow of the waning sun. 

 

From beside him, Riku’s jaw tightens. The hand holding his paopu clenches, hard.

 

There’s something unnerving about the way Sora squints at Riku, with eyes unsure and hesitant before imperceptibly flickering awake with something revelatory. “Because…That’d be uh, really…. stupid, Riku, to risk your life like that… Romantic, sure. But…” There’s a strange glimmer of light dancing in Sora’s deep blue eyes, buoyant and lively, and his tone is almost bashful. Edging into sweet, even. He grins at Riku and it’s a tiny, tender little smile that softens the corners of his eyes, right up until the moment it turns downright merciless as the grin widens into a smirk. “Mostly stupid.”

 

Riku shoves him with his shoulder, hard this time, and nearly topples Sora off the tree trying to hide his stupid, awful relief. What an _awful_ heart he has, to be happy about something as mean as Sora not liking Kairi yet. It’s not even something to _be_ happy about; sooner or later, Sora _will_ come into the realization he truly loves Kairi and Riku’s young, desperate heart will have to stop involuntarily getting its hopes up on every little crumb of affection. 

 

Sora bursts into cackles from next to him, scrambling to regain his balance and when he sits back up, he’s somehow seated much closer than just a moment ago. His sun-warmed arm lightly grazes against Riku’s as he leans into his space- another crumb of warmth and affection Riku files away for safekeeping. Another tenterhook to keep him dangling, hoping in spite of his better senses. It’s dumb, really, considering this isn’t really even his spot, and probably, Kairi and Sora have brushed up against each other like this hundreds of times, sweet and tender, and actually had it mean something.

 

“Man. You sure have some weird ideas about romance, Riku,” Sora muses, swinging his feet out and taking another bite of his paopu, chewing noisily. He peers over at Riku’s still uneaten, bruised, mushy paopu and frowns. “You don’t wanna eat yours? Want some of mine?” 

 

_What_? Immediately, Riku balks, flinching away from Sora’s half-eaten paopu with a look of abject terror. “ _What_? No,” he rebuffs him quickly, stuffing his own paopu into his mouth and shooting Sora a perplexed look. The bit he eats is, as expected, overly mushy and dripping full of juice that dribbles onto his hands and his chin like a trail of liquid gold. He hastily swipes at his chin, licks up the sweet juice still trailing his fingers and pooling in his palm and, suddenly, keenly aware of Sora’s dark eyes tracking his every movement, says uselessly. “You know that’s… how - “ He stills. 

 

The top of Sora’s white teeth is nibbling at his bottom lip, and Riku catches the faint dusting of pink blooming across Sora’s cheeks. He’d been half tempted to explain to Sora why that would be a terrible, _terrible_ idea, never mind how horribly _obvious_ that would make Riku - but he trails off. 

 

A little breathless cough wheezes out of Sora, and he jolts back, dragging his attention away from Riku’s palm. His voice comes out a little ragged and dusty, but his tone still sounds eternally amused by this whole song and dance. 

 

“Uh. Do I know that’s how the legend is supposed to go? Yeah, of course I know.” He pulls back his proffered paopu as Riku wipes his sticky hand on his pants, eyeing Riku’s with amusement. “But fine, it’s fine if you _really_ don’t want to.” he stretches the words out with the familiar cadence of a tease, “After all, with you, I don’t really need a paopu fruit.”

 

The muscles in Riku’s shoulder tense just the tiniest bit before Riku exhales. _Of course._ That made much more sense. Of course it didn’t mean anything for Sora to _not like_ Kairi just yet; that didn’t mean Riku had ever even been a running contender. He pops another small bit of his own fruit into his mouth. Jaw steadily chewing, his eyes trace the steady drip of the glistening juice newly trailing down from his palm onto the sand. Riku nods. His voice is light and firm, as it always is. “Makes sense.” He concedes. He swallows down the pulp - regrets how dry his throat feels, closing in on nothing but tepid air.

 

“Yup,” Sora breathes, staring out into the great dark sea. “I mean, if it’s us, we don’t really _need_ it.” He nudges Riku gently, knocks his knee against Riku’s and just. lets it rest there. The heat seeps and spreads from Sora’s skin into Riku’s like a warm yellow glow, and even though he _should_ jerk back, and even though he _should_ be strong enough not to indulge himself in dumb little moments like this, Riku falters. Sora continues, completely unbothered as he grins at Riku. “No matter what world we end up on, you’ll find me, right? And I’ll always do the same. No matter what. Our lives are already intertwined.” Riku’s breath hitches. There’s outright unwavering faith that lines the lighthearted playfulness in Sora’s voice. With a tilt of his head, he catches Riku’s eyes and - the utter affection Riku finds in Sora’s eyes runs through him like a jolt of electricity. He tries for a nonchalant scoff. What he gets comes out more like a breathless choking noise. Thankfully, however, Sora doesn’t comment on it.

 

“Of course,” 

 

It’s a small mercy his voice doesn’t crack. 

 

A part of his more sensible brain wants to pinch himself to knock some sense into him, because, of course Sora would say this to _anyone_ he’d befriended. Riku fiddles with the stem of his paopu fruit listlessly - he scratches the yellow rind, collects scrapes under his fingernail and watches them fall like bits of dust on the salty air. A lifetime spent with Sora should have taught him by now that Sora makes those same types of bold proclamations to everyone he meets, and… It’s not that those proclamations are untrue exactly, but… Riku has had time to sort through his expectations and understand the distance. No point getting his heart all worked up just to be shot down.

 

“Hey,” mumbles Sora softly, “where are you?” His shoulder bumps into him again - sun-kissed skin warm and comfortable against Riku’s, hardened by years of battles he’s too young to have faced. Worlds destroyed and worlds rebuilt by the lines of each scar speckling his tanned skin. 

 

“Just wondering how you could literally come back from the dead and still be such a _giant_ sap,” he coughs out, an easy enough response that dancse around the point and diffuses any lingering tension. 

 

 

Sora just laughs. “M’not a sap all the time, y’know!” Sora retorts back just as easily. “Just around the people that matter the most to me.”

 

A huff of incredulous laughter. “Seriously, don’t you get embarrassed saying stuff like that?”

 

“Nope, why should I?” Sora replies breezily, knocking into Riku gently again before settling comfortably closer into Riku’s space, pressed right up against his arm and running hot from the island sun.“You shouldn’t be either.” Sora tilts his face closer to Riku’s and grins impishly, fluttering his thick lashes. From this distance, Riku can practically count all of the dark freckles speckling the bridge of Sora’s nose, he’s so close, and Sora practically whines, with eyes crackling with energy, “C’mon Riku, tell me how important I am too.” 

 

“Oy, knock it off, you dork.” Riku snorts, not so much nudging so much as pushing back hard enough to shove Sora off of him. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sora laughs back, scrambling to rebalance himself on the paopu tree and dropping the rest of his fruit on the sand below. “Like I don’t remember you _literally_ jumping into my heart. Or following me _into death_ for that matter.” He mutters, voice softening. Riku stiffens next to him. Sora snickers before his smile softens and he gazes over at Riku, eyes unspeakably tender. “Anyways, it’s really okay if you don’t want to say it.” He presses his open palm against his chest, gentle smile lit by the waning sun. “I can feel it, right here. I felt it when you saved my heart from vanishing completely, and it’s been with me ever since.”

 

Oh. 

 

There’s a lump of fear crawling up Riku’s throat and he’s not sure whether he has it in him to say anything without just blurting out his feelings in an incoherent mess altogether or maybe denying it with every fiber of his being, consequences be damned.Because of course Sora knows he’s the most important person in Riku’s life; he just (hopefully) doesn’t quite understand the extent. 

 

There’s a long, still moment during which Sora stares at Riku expectantly, but the seconds stretch past, vanishing into the air. Invariably, Sora visibly deflates when Riku just opens his mouth wordlessly before diverting his gaze down at the overripe paopu fruit in his hand, fiddling again at the rind like it might hold some divine answer to an unasked question. Overhead, the seagulls caw distantly. The waves don’t roar so much as gently lap, but the silence that accompanies Riku’s unspoken fear makes every tide sound like a violent crash.

 

There had been a lot of things Riku considered as he’d kept vigil for those tense months after Sora left to reunite with Kairi. Things like, understanding what it meant to act for the greater good. Things like, accepting the mantle of responsibility and duty that came with being a Keyblade Master. Things like, truly internalizing that the wheels of fate had been set perhaps ages before he’d stepped into the picture, somewhere up there by some unfeeling Master. In all that time though, he refused himself the luxury of slipping into doubt; because wherever Kairi went, Sora would undoubtedly find her. Wasn’t that the power of love? It was a lesson learned from what felt like aeons ago, but he knew: a doubting heart would hardly cast enough light to be able to bring his friends home. So, he was diligent in his belief, vigilant even. Sora would come back; if not for him, then at least for Kairi’s sake. Of that, he could be sure.

 

True to form, Sora ever the indulgent Hero of Light, didn’t disappoint. And true to form, when Sora vanished and Master Yen Sid and Mickey both tried to calm Riku down with placating words of ‘repercussions’ or ‘thinking things through’, Riku said damn it all to things like accepting the mantle of responsibility he owed to the Worlds as a Master. He’d said damn it all to acting for the greater good, or behaving sensibly, or upholding the facade he’d built up of false bravado, waiting - forever waiting - for his friends to return. If the balance of the worlds required a life for a life, and Sora had paid the price for Kairi, then surely _his_ life could constitute collateral, and wouldn’t the Worlds be better off with the true Hero of Light rather than the sham Master?

 

Mickey had pulled him aside, eyes tight and strained. His silence was deafening enough that he knew Mickey could comprehend what he was thinking without further discussion; this was a suicide mission, no doubt, but… There’d never been any other choice for RIku. 

 

So, he’d turned away.

 

Letting his eyes flutter shut, Riku had focused his breathing and centered himself, trying to let the tension in his muscles melt away. If he breathed slowly, deeply enough, he could allow the slow rhythmic beating of his heart fill all of his senses - and maybe, _maybe_ , he might be able to pinpoint a connection, pulsing hot like a live wire. Like a thin gossamer thread connecting him back to the person he wanted to see most. The thrum was barely there. It ran through him more like a flatline, a silvery strand of dim, dull light that felt so much like home, it hardly registered to him as something separate from himself. 

 

He dove.

 

And when, eventually,he escaped from Death’s jagged door, Riku had been shocked enough to discover he was still alive and of course, Sora was alive as well, albeit unconscious. There had been a lingering moment, as Riku had dragged Sora away from slipping into the cracked seam of nonexistence, that he’d gazed directly into the maw of Death and believed himself fully and wholly prepared to sacrifice himself, if the Land of the Dead would have him. Strangely, the thought had been a comfort; there would be no more wrestling with the darkness, wrangling down all of the awful jealousies that hounded him for everything Kairi or Sora had that he didn’t. There would be no Ansem, perhaps. No legacies to fulfill. No guilt to soothe, no repentances to collect like salves to a desperate heart. The maw of Death held only a cool, dark void, pulling him gently, soothingly inwards into its cracked open mouth like what he’d always imagined a mother’s loving embrace might feel like, but then.That thin twisted thread tied to his heart thrummed suddenly, erratic and pulsing, jumpy even, and he remembered. _Sora_ , in his arms. He needed to get him out first.

 

Whatever miracle had allowed both of them to pass into the realm of the Living, Riku knew he wouldn’t be allowed any more miraclesfor the rest of his life. A bit melodramatic, maybe, but perhaps Death found his frustrations a bit hilarious and thought it’d be more amusing to watch Riku actually accept, with his own two eyes, the things he’d only abstractly resolved himself to make peace with. Things like, obeying destiny. Things like, maintaining the status quo. Things like, understanding that true love was a happy ending only reserved for hearts full of light, for heroes and princesses, not cruel boys with lonely, desperate hearts.

 

It’d take a miracle for Riku to deserve a happy ending, and he’s running on nothing but scraps of affection from wherever he can get it. There aren’t many people he considers friends, and Riku hardly wants to ruin one of the only good things he’s managed to salvage in his life.This, Riku had realized, this closeness he shared with Sora, the friendship he’d managed to mend with Kairi, and the mentorship he had with Mickey was as good a happy ending as he’d ever get. Probably _too good_ an ending for someone like him, really - 

 

Abruptly, Sora pokes his forehead with one sticky finger, pupils dark with concern. “Hey.Quit overthinking things, Riku.” He growls, tone nearly bordering on sulky.With rapid blinks, Riku attempts to clear his mind from all of his fatalistic thinking and bats at Sora’s finger without much feeling, only to find his hand immediately clasped in Sora’s grasp. Then, slowly, Sora slips his fingers between Riku’s, threading their hands together. Riku stammers again, barely scraping out an aborted, hoarse ‘ _hey_ ’ and jerking back before Sora’s smile falls into something more quiet, pensive. 

 

“Y’know, for a guy whose Keyblade is literally named Braveheart, you’re really making _me_ do everything here.” He drawls, and Riku feels faintly like he’s lost the thread of conversation somewhere along the line. “Unless _I’m_ the one who’s confused,” Sora mutters slowly, slipping his hand away from Riku’s. His fingers twitch back for the comforting warmth, but he stills.

 

… How can anyone expect him to be brave of heart about this? It’s the one situation that still runs his nerves into overdrive, like he’s still just a kid, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his love and unsure how to contain even a fraction of it. It’s not easy to be brave, to face the inevitable, definite end to his aimless feelings, when he’s carried those feelings for as long as he can remember.

 

There’s a soft shuffling from beside him, and when he glances over, Sora’s ruffling his already messy hair with his free hand.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Sora groans. “Fine. _I’ll_ be the brave one. But only this time!” He exhales, long and loud, before turning to look at Riku straight-on, with sun-warmed pink cheeks and a determined set to his mouth. His eyes are vulnerable and open, if a little hesitant, glittering brighter than polished sapphires and crackling with some kind of nervous energy Riku can’t quite identify.

 

“I guess,” Sora starts slowly with a half-hearted, almost embarrassed little huff, keeping his gaze steady with Riku. “what I want to get through your _dumb skull,_ Riku,” The determined set of his eyes softens, just a touch, faintly amused. “is that I _could_ pretend that paopu legend would tie your destiny to mine no matter what.” Sora’s eyes flutter down to consider the half-eaten fruit in Riku’s hand, three points of the star-shaped fruit still glistening and slick with fresh juice. 

 

“We _could_ pretend it’s not some silly tourist trap story for hopeless romantics like Selphie or _you_ to cling onto.” Riku splutters loudly at that, but Sora just raises a hand to silence him, good-naturedly, the tiniest doting smile curling his lips up. “And you know, if it were true, I _would_. Share it with you. Or I’d really _want_ to, if you’d let me, anyways.” His smile softens, his eyebrows furrowing closer together in contemplation and thoughtfulness as he looks back down at that small, innocuous fruit again. 

 

Riku doesn’t blink, doesn’t even breathe. He just stares at Sora’s vulnerable smile, feeling his chest tighten like a painfully sweet vice, his throat catching on nothing but sheer disbelief.

 

“But I know what it feels like to be trapped inside destiny’s chokehold, even if it’s not a destiny you asked for…” Sora pauses hesitantly, gnawing on his lip before slowly looking up into Riku’s eyes through his thick, dark lashes. “You know I‘m not great at words, but… I guess I just… want you to choose me? In every lifetime, in every world, in whatever crazy place, time or realm we end up in. Because _I_ would choose you, always. I don’t need destiny or a fruit to make that choice for me.”

 

Time freezes. 

 

Only the lovely whistle of the warm wind and the ambient lapping of the waves remind Riku that the world is still turning, that Sora is still looking up at him, deep eyes hopeful and hesitant. It’s in fact a damn wonder his heart hasn’t given out on him at this point considering how loudly it’s thundering inside of him. His mouth forms useless shapes, but no sound escapes him. Faintly, Riku considers that he must be in a dream. A _really, pathetically_ indulgent one. He swallows down thickly, stares helplessly back at Sora, waiting for the hyperrealistic fantasy to fizzle away into Riku, waking up alone in a dark room in a house that’s not a home.

 

That’s not what he gets though. Instead, he only hears Sora nervously say. 

 

“So how about it, huh?” Sora smiles shyly, small and hopeful, reaching over to place his warm, warm hand over Riku’s again. “Choose me, too?” He carefully twines their fingers together, and Riku can feel all the rough, aged callouses on Sora’s palm from years of wielding, can feel Sora’s thumb graze lightly, hypnotically over his knuckles as if he’s something delicate and precious, to be handled with care.

 

Riku has to squeeze his eyes shut until he can collect his voice and his thundering heart enough to speak coherently, because he’s absolutely sure he’ll sound wrecked if he speaks too soon. A shiver runs through him, and it feels like _too much_ to be real but also _too much_ to be just a dream. His heart clatters noisily in his chest, hopeful and vulnerable. If this is a dream… _If this is a dream_ \- but Sora squeezes Riku’s hand again, gently, pulling him out of his head.

 

He breathes in deep. Opens his eyes. It’s hard to actually think this might be real considering he’s had enough pathetic, indulgent dreams where dream-Sora looks at him like this, smeared with bits of sand from their sparring session, his hair a wilder mess than normal, eyes tender and wet and so, _so_ hopeful Riku can’t even _imagine_ how enamored he himself probably looks. 

 

With a tiny, shaky smile, he squeezes Sora’s hand in return. “There’s never been any other choice for me.”His voice comes out rough, raw and far too honest for his liking, but he persists, trying to be brave. “It is and always will be you.” 

 

It’s sappy. It’s _so unbelievably_ sappy, but Sora’s shoulders heave as if a huge weight as been taken off of him, and a heart-wrenching smile peals on Sora’s flushed face, like he’s been waiting forever for those words. 

 

Sora’s tentative when he reaches a hand out to cup Riku’s face. He tiptoes his fingers along the delicate line of Riku’s jaw, softly brushing the pad of his thumb against the velvety swell of Riku’s cheeks.A part of Riku feels a little wired, a little touch-starved and desperate, and despite himself, he leans into the lingering, hesitant touches, squeezing Sora’s hand as tight as he can to prove to himself, _this is actually real_.

 

A tiny giggle bubbles up in Sora’s throat. It sounds so shy and exultant, not quite like the snickers they usually share, and, god -Riku hasn’t heard Sora make sounds like that in — _forever._ His breath hitches at the summery glow highlighting the outline of Sora’s face, fascinated by how _Sora_ could look so enthralled by someone like _Riku_. Does he even deserve to feel this happy, to be the person Sora shares that beautiful, adoring look with? 

 

Before he can spiral back into his thoughts, though, Sora laces his fingers behind Riku’s neck and swoops in close, nosing gently at him. His breath is hot and teasing against Riku’s lips, his lower lip almost grazing Riku’s as he mumbles, low and hot, “Hey, it’s your turn to be the brave one now.”

 

And that’s really all the encouragement he needs. 

 

With a lighter heart than ever, Riku leans in, chasing after the enticing phantom sensation of Sora’s pink lips, and he presses once, gently. Sora’s lips are terribly warm and unimaginably soft, the lingering taste of citrus sweetness from the forgotten paopu still clinging to the soft, soft swell of Sora’s bottom lip, and all of that together shoots a _zap_ through Riku’s spine like a maelstrom of sparks. 

 

Sora smiles into the kiss and tugs Riku even closer, tilting his head just the slightest bit as he drags his tongue experimentally along the line of Riku’s closed mouth, wet and smooth. _God._ He feels like the air has been sucked right out of him in the best way possible. When Sora settles for innocently sucking on Riku’s bottom lip and nibbling gently, Riku involuntarily makes a low noise in the back of his throat that immediately sends heat rushing straight to his ears and neck in embarrassment. As if to steady himself, he grips the curve of Sora’s waist, paopu long abandoned in his lap. The heat of Sora’s skin bleeds out from underneath the thin fabric, and he absently draws little abstract shapes, right above Sora’s hipbone.

 

Sora leans back, a little tickled by the ministrations, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Riku can still feel the hot brush of his wet lips, when Sora teases, half breathless, “C’mon Riku, I know you’re braver than that.” He leans in and presses the lightest, tiny kiss on Riku’s nose and barely pulls back before Riku rolls his eyes and pulls him in for another kiss, this time, much braver.

 

 

 

 

Later, after Riku reluctantly reminds Sora they need to head back home before nightfall, Riku picks up the paopu he’d abandoned in his lap. There’d been sweeter pastures that took precedence after all. Still, stupid legends and all notwithstanding, it _had_ tasted pretty good -- though Sora might think it gross of him if he’d wanted to eat it now. It’s just, he’s feeling weirdly sentimental about it, this mushy, overripe thing that had somehow managed to grant Riku an impossible miracle. It’d be even nicer if he could share what’s left with Sora, as mushy and overly sweet as it is, even though Sora hadn’t seemed particularly taken by the legend itself. 

 

From beside him, Sora pokes his head over and watches Riku’s perplexed face as he stares longingly at the still half-eaten paopu. He stifles a soft snort, perennially amused but horribly fond, at Riku’s poorly masked sentimentality.

 

Impishly, Sora tilts his head this way and that to try and catch Riku’s eyes. When he does manage to, Riku startles and pulls the paopu away - as if to hide it.

 

Embarrassment’s a look Sora will probably never get tired of on his boyfriend’s face, and the soft flush of pink rising up his neck and cheeks certainly wasn’t there before despite the island heat. It’s painfully sweet. He inches in even closer, kiss-reddened lips spread in a sneaky smile. 

 

“…And you call _me_ the sap!” Sora says slyly, eyes glimmering with absolute mirth, With a long-suffering sigh, Riku glares at Sora, though there’s no heat behind the look.Sora says graciously, “But I guess that’s fine! I can indulge my hopeless romantic of a _boyfriend_.” He stretches ‘boyfriend’ out, luxuriating in the word and unable to keep the glee out of his voice, before he swoops down and cranes his neck to take a generous chomp of the half-finished paopu still held in Riku’s hand. 

 

“H-hey, you really don’t have to -“ Riku stutters quickly, snatching away the rest of the paopu and setting it aside just a beat too late. 

 

With paopu juice still glossing his full lips, Sora instead leans into Riku’s space and gently presses a sweet, sticky and very wet kiss against Riku’s lips. He swallows the fruit easily, and he has to admit, it’s never tasted as sweet as it does in that moment. In barely a ghost of a whisper that brushes hot against Riku’s mouth, he murmurs.

 

“For you, I _choose_ to.” He gently presses his lips against once more, memorizing the soft give and the way Riku practically melts into it, before declaring softly around his smile. “An eternal oath, sealed with a kiss."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I binged all of the KH games, and the UNGODLY amount of soriku feels I have is like, actually overwhelming. I had to get at least a tiny portion of it out of my system, because I was on course to implode!
> 
> I haven't written fiction in a long long time and I don't have a beta, so forgive me if there's a lot of issues. Always happy to take constructive criticism! The title is from an Elliott Smith song by the same name.


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